[Fic] Taiga
Mar. 2nd, 2011 09:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deegeeakTitle: Taiga
Pairing: Russia. America. Brief fantasy of Canada/
Genre: Dark. Murder. Necrophilia Kink-Meme de-anon.
Rating: R
Summary: Russia likes the idea of killing America. He likes it a lot.
Notes: You have been warned. Also. It is somewhat important to remember that the Taiga is another word for a Boreal Forest, which are the arctic forests, or really any of the sub-arctic forests. Generally speaking Russia (thanks to Siberia) has the world's largest area of Taiga, followed by Canada and America. Thirdly, there will be a human version of this. Why I have been so fond of torturing America and Canada I have no idea.
Russia does not speak to many nations these days. He has little need for the petty disputes erupting in today's overly tense atmosphere and prefers the solitude of the taiga these days. Let the younger, volatile nations fight it out among themselves, he reasons. Russia has no reason to interfere with the burning passions of the rest of the world. Why should he? When all else falls, he will still be until, when at last, General Winter returns his heart to him. (A fire may burn brightly after all, but when the fuel is spent what else is left but the cold? Russia wonders sometimes what would happen if he were to introduce his beloved enemy to how life should be, survival of the fittest, and test America's strength. Oh, America has his Boreal Forests he shares with his brother, but neither of the North American Twins can match Russia's Taiga.
(Russia sits back in his old chair, an old friend welcoming him back into it's soft embrace and thinks of a well loved fantasy.)
He would take America first. He would hit hard and fast, raze the buildings that his counter-part was so proud of to the ground. The people would be driven out of the cities, and brought to work. Clean work, honest work. Work with their hands and the soil, the sun and water. They would work until the blood that stained America's hands were stained brown from the soils and green from growing things.
Then. Only then would he move onwards.
He would bind America to the very ground. He has stakes already prepared in his yard, even now, for the American nation. Stakes of steel and iron, driven deep into his soil, down so far, that the permafrost's chill travels up the metal and freezes it even in the height of summer. He would wet the leather straps, and wrap them round and round and round till the water ran free and down the straining muscles. In his mind, America does not struggle, just waits for whatever comes next. America would be broken by the time Russia would bring him here - the American would dare not raise hand or voice to Russia.
And when the leather ties whiten in the sun, he would begin to draw on America. He thinks he would make his knives from the metal of America's mines, hone them in the fires and bring them home to Russia. He would slowly part skin from muscle amid the whimpers, and softly open up the belly. This America would not have the soft belly he does now, it would be hard from muscles gained from plowing the fields and working the mines. He would carve names, words, life itself into America and lap up the blood as it welled up. He would have to move most carefully to open a cross on the other nation, and then even more carefully reach in to caress the heart as it beats and struggles to keep moving, beating, working. He would stay like that. One hand on his defeated America's heart, the other guiding himself in, to thrust and take and conquer until he finally climaxed.
That is the point he would take America's heart and place it in his chest.
(Russia groans to himself and shakes at the thought of having America's heart in his chest, beating for him, working for him. It's almost enough to tip him over to bliss, but not quite.
For that, he would need to take Canada too.)
Canada would be a far tougher nut to crack he believes, then America would. America is the quick talker, the star burning brightest in the night sky and the wildest forest fire. Canada burns as well, but at a lower pitch, a lower setting. He would have to be broken in a rush.
Russia knows how he would do it.
He would bring Canada, protesting, sweet Canada, to where he left America, dead and still bound to the ground. He might let Canada think he could save America from him, or he might not. Alls that matter would be getting Canada there, where he would take the other twin next to the dead one. Canada would struggle, but Russia would have America's heart in his chest and nothing would be able to stop him. He would force Canada to love his brother in the basest of ways before ripping Canada's life from him. He would drink deep of Canada's blood, until he had the very soul of Canada inside him.
(Back in his chair, Russia comes. He knows how he would do this, but knows as well, he would not.)
Pairing: Russia. America. Brief fantasy of Canada/
Genre: Dark. Murder. Necrophilia Kink-Meme de-anon.
Rating: R
Summary: Russia likes the idea of killing America. He likes it a lot.
Notes: You have been warned. Also. It is somewhat important to remember that the Taiga is another word for a Boreal Forest, which are the arctic forests, or really any of the sub-arctic forests. Generally speaking Russia (thanks to Siberia) has the world's largest area of Taiga, followed by Canada and America. Thirdly, there will be a human version of this. Why I have been so fond of torturing America and Canada I have no idea.
Russia does not speak to many nations these days. He has little need for the petty disputes erupting in today's overly tense atmosphere and prefers the solitude of the taiga these days. Let the younger, volatile nations fight it out among themselves, he reasons. Russia has no reason to interfere with the burning passions of the rest of the world. Why should he? When all else falls, he will still be until, when at last, General Winter returns his heart to him. (A fire may burn brightly after all, but when the fuel is spent what else is left but the cold? Russia wonders sometimes what would happen if he were to introduce his beloved enemy to how life should be, survival of the fittest, and test America's strength. Oh, America has his Boreal Forests he shares with his brother, but neither of the North American Twins can match Russia's Taiga.
(Russia sits back in his old chair, an old friend welcoming him back into it's soft embrace and thinks of a well loved fantasy.)
He would take America first. He would hit hard and fast, raze the buildings that his counter-part was so proud of to the ground. The people would be driven out of the cities, and brought to work. Clean work, honest work. Work with their hands and the soil, the sun and water. They would work until the blood that stained America's hands were stained brown from the soils and green from growing things.
Then. Only then would he move onwards.
He would bind America to the very ground. He has stakes already prepared in his yard, even now, for the American nation. Stakes of steel and iron, driven deep into his soil, down so far, that the permafrost's chill travels up the metal and freezes it even in the height of summer. He would wet the leather straps, and wrap them round and round and round till the water ran free and down the straining muscles. In his mind, America does not struggle, just waits for whatever comes next. America would be broken by the time Russia would bring him here - the American would dare not raise hand or voice to Russia.
And when the leather ties whiten in the sun, he would begin to draw on America. He thinks he would make his knives from the metal of America's mines, hone them in the fires and bring them home to Russia. He would slowly part skin from muscle amid the whimpers, and softly open up the belly. This America would not have the soft belly he does now, it would be hard from muscles gained from plowing the fields and working the mines. He would carve names, words, life itself into America and lap up the blood as it welled up. He would have to move most carefully to open a cross on the other nation, and then even more carefully reach in to caress the heart as it beats and struggles to keep moving, beating, working. He would stay like that. One hand on his defeated America's heart, the other guiding himself in, to thrust and take and conquer until he finally climaxed.
That is the point he would take America's heart and place it in his chest.
(Russia groans to himself and shakes at the thought of having America's heart in his chest, beating for him, working for him. It's almost enough to tip him over to bliss, but not quite.
For that, he would need to take Canada too.)
Canada would be a far tougher nut to crack he believes, then America would. America is the quick talker, the star burning brightest in the night sky and the wildest forest fire. Canada burns as well, but at a lower pitch, a lower setting. He would have to be broken in a rush.
Russia knows how he would do it.
He would bring Canada, protesting, sweet Canada, to where he left America, dead and still bound to the ground. He might let Canada think he could save America from him, or he might not. Alls that matter would be getting Canada there, where he would take the other twin next to the dead one. Canada would struggle, but Russia would have America's heart in his chest and nothing would be able to stop him. He would force Canada to love his brother in the basest of ways before ripping Canada's life from him. He would drink deep of Canada's blood, until he had the very soul of Canada inside him.
(Back in his chair, Russia comes. He knows how he would do this, but knows as well, he would not.)
